Authoress Notes:
This is the first chapter of an epic fic that Tracy and I have been working on for over a year. It represents a complete rewrite of DMC and AWE in the context of an alternative universe. Basically, we feel that James Norrington got the short end of the stick as well as character assassination of the most dubious kind. Some of you may be familiar with the general story as you may have read the spoilers "A Bit of Fun" and "Digging Up Jack" - however this really shouldn't ruin any of the fun. Eventually every character will come into play as James Norrington takes the lead throughout DMC and AWE navigating the waters between surviving and still trying to be an honorable man.
Chapter 1: Patience is a Virtue
Patience is a virtue; he had none, but there was nothing to do but wait. He waited like a concubine in a seraglio; the hours stretching into days stretching into months. The only things still clean were the sweet sharpness of his blade and the cold shine of his pistol. This place stank while his reek was only a little less noisome. The boots he was wearing were not his own; he had taken them off a decomposing corpse in a filthy, forgotten alley after he had pawned his own silver buckled shoes. Sometimes it felt as though he had not cleaned all the maggots out of the squishy insoles. I am not dead yet, he said to himself, not yet.
"-Jack Sparrow-" a voice came out of the crowd of noise to prick his ears, a hound catching the scent of the fox. Instantly attentive, he sprang out of his miasma and strode towards the man who had uttered the name. Eavesdropping on the conversation, he learned that Sparrow was over at the Faithful Bride recruiting for some such adventure that only a mad fool would attempt. This bit of intelligence might not be true, it had happened before, but he stomped on his tingle of excitement as he left the sweltering of the King's Arm tavern for another. The sweat that trickled from him smelled like revenge cooked with the sticky, sweet scent of shite, death, and rum.
Sliding into the Faithful Bride as two wretches staggered out, he kept to the wall and a lookout for Sparrow. A flicker of recognition and he saw someone he knew from long ago and not far behind him was the man he had been waiting to show up for a very long time. A vicious sneer ripped uncontrolled across his face. Joining the queue, he waited for his revenge a few moments longer. Fingering his pistol he thought about the release this would bring him. No honor, no justice; he was too far gone for that. Stepping up to the table, the fat man asked him, "And what is your story?" The drunkard did not recognize him, although it was not right to call him a drunkard; he was one now too.
"My story?" he pondered aloud, his voice gravelly to his own ears from disuse, wondering if he should even bother. Oh, but it would give him such satisfaction knowing that Sparrow would know just before he died. "It is exactly the same as your story, merely one chapter behind. I hunted a man across the seven seas. The pursuit cost me my crew, my commission, and my life." He snatched a bottle off the table to ease the hoarseness of his throat; there was rum in the bottle. "Commodore?" the man asked with incredulity. "No, not anymore!" the former Commodore snarled at the pirate, "Why are you not listening?"
He slammed the bottle down on the table, angered to reveal such things, such important things, and the man was not even listening to him! Dear God, had the mutiny marked him so badly that even this turncoat of a navy man could see it? Looming over the man he spat out, "I nearly had you all off Tripoli. I would have too, were it not for the white squall." "Lord!" the fat man sat back in shock, "You didn't try to sail through it?" There was Sparrow, hiding in the corner behind a potted plant, looking to make another quick escape. Keeping his eyes on the pirate he sneered and kicked over the table and pulled his pistol. Sparrow stopped in his tracks, holding his stick of greenery like a shield.
"Hello, Jack," He smiled, cocking his pistol. "Easy, now!" the fat pirate pushed the toppled table off him, "That's our captain you're threatening!" He fired, at this distance he did not need to aim, and Jack Sparrow fell like a toppled tree. It was as though the sails of his soul filled with wind for the first time after a long becalm and his feet could no longer feel the floorboards in his elation. He could not hear the absolute silence in the tavern, it was as though his shot had been made by a cannon and he was momentarily struck deaf. "JACK!" a voice screamed out and it pierced the fog of his ears with recognition. Turning, he saw her at the forefront of the patrons.
"Elizabeth?" he breathed and suddenly his feet found the floor and it felt as though he had stumbled onto a lurching deck. He would know her anywhere, even with her hair shorn and her lad's breeches. Elizabeth was not looking at him, she was looking at Jack in horror. He thought he would never see her again. "Elizabeth," he dropped the bottle and he reached out to her. Screaming, she flinched away from him and he knew then that she did not recognize him. Letting his hand drop, he felt the wind leave his sails, he never wanted her to see this. "Oh, James, what have you done?" Elizabeth finally recognized him. James Norrington realized that he had done a terrible thing.